The Darkness Risen
by TheFantasyNerd
Summary: She, an Argonian, helped him win the Civil War. But even worse things began to happen across Skyrim. Sort of Ulfric's POV, does not accurately follow storyline. One-shot with gore.


They should have realized immediately that something was amiss. They should have realized it the moment stories began to spread of how an Argonian, in mismatched armor, had strode into Windhelm and joined the Stormcloak army. It made no sense. The only reason Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak had allowed her to even stand before him was the fact that she was the legendary Dragonborn, or so the rumors said.

It was her spells that decimated the ranks of the Imperial Army. It was her Thu'um that led the rebels roaring into victories. She was loathed and feared by those loyal to the empire, and held in esteem by those who supported the freedom of Skyrim. It was her blade that sliced the head off of General Tullius, leaving his limp and bloody body to fall to the ground before the Jarl responsible for this civil war. It was her that parted the crowd of curious onlookers, as she dragged the Imperial's naked and mutilated body into the center of the Castle Dour courtyard.

"A message to those who would oppose the Dragonborn's causes," was all she said, in a soft and cultured voice, when Galmar questioned the unnecessary action.

She did not return to Windhelm, instead wandering off to gods-know-where. Ulfric didn't question her, didn't care. She was, after all, a lizard. A useful lizard, but still not a Nord. Townsfolk murmured in hushed voices, about a string of especially bloody murders, starting down in Riften and culminating with the assassination of the emperor himself. About a great beast that terrorized Whiterun Hold in the dead of night, howling savagely before ripping the hearts from corpses and devouring them whole. How bandits and isolated farmers alike were found by the roadsides throughout Skyrim, with their throats sliced like bloody smiles.

It all escalated like a sudden storm, like the rebirth of the dragon menace. An unfortunate guard stepped into the basement of the Blue Palace and was blown backward by the stench of burnt flesh. The former Jarls and their folk were but roasted corpses in their beds; burned alive even as they slept. The only child present had survived, but nothing but a terrified whimper could be coaxed from him.

Ulfric doubled his guards, attempting to defend himself from this possible menace.

"Where is the Dragonborn?" he challenged his wizard, his housecarl, his advisors. He didn't know her name; why would he? He sent missives to other Jarls, ordering information of the Argonian's whereabouts, but they knew nothing. And the rumors kept coming. Entire Thalmor patrols had been obliterated. Citizens of Morthal and Dawnstar had completely vanished. Jarl Maven Black-Briar was found floating face down beneath the Riften docks.

As Ulfric read the latest report – an experienced mage had been found dangling lifelessly from the College's main entryway – in his quarters late one night, he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Greetings, _my Jarl."_ The title was mocking. He whipped around, and saw the Dragonborn leaning against his bedpost. But she was different. Her armor was bloodstained scraps of fur, too thin and color – varied to be wild lion skins, and the scaly buckles, of mottled green…

_Oh, Talos, she's wearing Khajiit and Argonian skins…_

He then noticed the chain around her neck. White stones of varying sizes clustered around broad tusks…but no, they were teeth. Teeth of Man and Mer around Orc tusks. The Argonian smiled as she saw his dawning comprehension, but it was a horrible smile. A smile of bloodlust, of senseless hunger. Something he could never understand. More savage than a dragon, more twisted than a Daedric lord.

She pulled a small knife from her hip. It was short, yet had a wicked, serrated edge. Bone-white in the candlelight, he saw that the teethlike points were an ugly scarlet, dyed by the lifeblood of her victims.She softly approached him, and he realized he could not move. She had cast a spell, perhaps, to render him immobile, or perhaps it was just fear.

"You'll taste the voice before you die, Ulfric. But you'll be plenty conscious to watch as I carve your innards out of your still-breathing body. You'll see your own heart's final beats. Farewell, High King."

He still could not move as she bent to whisper in his ear, her voice hissing through her reptilian teeth.

"I am the Dragonborn. But you – none of you – should have assumed that meant I was your shining hero."


End file.
